I am on House Arrest

Two Weeks on Lockdown (Again)
Subtitle: When You Won’t Rest, Your Body Makes the Decision for You












Aaaah sh*t here we go again.

Same sinus infection, but different antibiotics....this time, they’ve sent me two weeks’ worth—fourteen days of enforced stillness. It feels less like a treatment and more like a sentence. House arrest, if you will, for the crime of living with enthusiasm. Thing is, it's normally a week of antibiotics... pop a few meds, and carry on.. but this one.. well... we tried that approach... and penicillin at 250mg did sweet sod all... I wasn't even going to wait a week I gave it 4 days, I know my body.. If after 2 days I don't feel better I need something stronger...It's just as well I did as now I have something I can't pronounce... for twice as long... and I can't even travel? 
Also.... I have been graciously invited to send swabs in for testing..  because of the fevers I have been running. hot then cold, hot then cold, sweaty, twitchy, awkward and unfocused feeling... Like my ex actually... 

Excellent. God Bless my consultant dr. It's because of care to this calibre, that I had avoided house arrest.... previously this year like this.... This caught us both unawares though. 

I’m gutted. And furious. And yes, absolutely exhausted.

This latest crash wasn’t random. Let’s not pretend the signs weren’t there. I’d just done a four-day whirlwind indie shoot—late nights, early mornings, caffeine instead of sleep, and the subtle stress of navigating a new environment, even one I wanted to be in. It was a brilliant opportunity, creatively rich and fulfilling. But the bill for that experience has come due. And as usual, my body doesn’t haggle. It simply shuts the gates. I did have a sniffle on show week.. but this combo has caused it to be even worse.. Rude. 
The past few days, I’ve barely slept. Not properly. Certainly not restfully. And sleep isn’t just a nice-to-have—it’s survival. Without it, your immune system doesn’t just get grumpy; it gets vindictive. The bottom line.... I pushed too hard on what could have otherwise been a week of not enjoying food, or smells... or half my hearing.. 

and instead... it's this. I made a mistake, and ideally should have said no... but that is the cruel irony about limits... all limits... You never know what they are until you break them, and get absolutely battered as a consequence. 

Was it caused by the root canal? can it cause sinus infections to happen more often... ? sometimes... in some cases... but I don't have splitting toothaches anymore... so there is all of that to be grateful for.. 
I still have bloody hayfever though, which did not help. at. all. On top of a cold, which is usually for me, nothing major. 

So, here I am. Missing out on rehearsals in London. Watching life move forward from the sidelines. Furious that I have to choose between being well and being present. And the FOMO?? it's intense.  

And perhaps that’s the cruel part—there is no choice. If you don’t slow down, your body will choose for you. And its choice is rarely convenient. It waits until you’re excited, until you’ve said yes to things that matter, then it topples you like a house of cards built too high on too little rest an things will probably be worse than if you had just rested the first time around... 

This isn’t the first time I’ve been thrown off course. Life with a chronic illness means learning to reroute constantly. But it is rare to be hit this hard. More than a week of antibiotics is not standard for me. This is what I call a “critical hit.” And it landed right between the eyes. Quite literally. I am sweating, hot, cold, it's why I can't travel... "Please, do not spread this about Rest...." 
Tyrannical. 

Kidding. 
This feels icky and I wouldn't wish it on anybody... and me? I try not to be petty but village life haha! 

So, here’s the hard truth I’ve had to accept:

If you don’t rest, your body will crumble.
If you don’t say no, your body will say it for you.
If you ignore the whispers, your body will scream.

And that’s where I am right now. Gutted. Pacing a little palace of duvets and hot compresses, high on decongestants and disappointment. 
Adding chilli flakes to EVERYTHING. because I can't even taste food.. this said... 
If I gave this to the old lady up the road.. I think it would kill her.. public transport would be very unwise.. The wheezing is the worst part, I sound like a haunted accordion, and this is in my sinuses... no gunk or breathlessness, just a nose I can't clear... and a splitting headache... and mouth breathing... drooling... sweating... I look so sexy haha!

But I am still here.
Still me.
Still incredibly grateful for the understanding I was met with from everyone involved, and for the interventions made by my team... Thought it has taken a shedload of courage to admit that I messed up and need help... 

So, to anyone else curled under blankets right now, feeling like they’re missing the world: I see you. Rest isn't weakness. It's strategy. It's your body calling a truce before the war gets worse. Listen. Obey. Grieve what you’re missing. But know that this doesn’t mean you’ve failed.

It means you’ve lived. And now you need to live wisely.

With love, rage, and a hot water bottle,
Clare Alexandra




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

CVID & The Journey to My Diagnosis: A Story of Illness, Perseverance, and Discovery

Image
The Journey to My Diagnosis: A Story of Illness, Perseverance, and Discovery In my first year of university, I entered the music program full of excitement, ambition, and plans to pursue my dream of becoming a classical singer. But my journey quickly turned into a frustrating and confusing series of illnesses. It all started with a simple throat infection, or so I thought. I was just 20 years old, and when I visited the campus doctor, I was told that I should be able to fight it off. I was given antidepressants and sent on my way with no real explanation or further investigation. But the infection didn’t go away. It worsened, and soon it spread to my voicebox. I was prescribed 250mg of penicillin, but still, the infection lingered. My coursework became harder to keep up with as my health deteriorated. I requested extensions, but it wasn't long before I had to resit my second year under medical circumstances. I was constantly sick, and the antibiotics just kept coming., and they a...
Read more

Stretched Thin: Chronic Illness, Work, and Loneliness

Image
  The past few weeks have been incredibly difficult. Chronic illness always brings its own kind of isolation, but lately, it has felt sharper—more present. I feel stretched so thin I might just disappear altogether. And if something had to give, of course, it was work. Not that you could even call it a “job” in the traditional sense. I work on a zero-hours contract, solely on call time and commission because my condition fluctuates too much for a set schedule. Even with that level of accommodation, I almost lost my job this week—if you can call it that. I woke up to an email threatening to suspend my account if I didn’t log in. So, I put everything on hold, cancelled a doctor’s appointment, and worked, because I had no choice. But I still have to attend a respiratory appointment later this week—an hour away—and all things considered, that’s non-negotiable. It’s exhausting, and not just physically. My social battery is utterly fried. I expected that, to a degree. The afterparty fo...
Read more

🎭 Playing Nadia, Healing Me

Image
 It's been a while... I have been busy, burnt out, joyful, stressed... chasing my tail and playing an absolute dream role... Playing Nadia Kovlova in Give Us a Sign has been an unexpected balm. She’s half Vlada Bulkakova, half Anna Chapman, with a sprinkling of that one inscrutable blonde Russian model on Instagram who always looks like she’s judging your fashion choices from a marble balcony. There’s something delicious about leaning into that stereotype—mocking my own Eastern European roots with a wink and a smirk in a sympathetic way. It’s been cathartic, even empowering. And lately, I’ve needed that. Because offstage, things haven’t exactly been velvet and roses. Just before I was told by the consultant that my lungs were miraculously clear, I’d had not one but two appointments with a nurse who could only be described as a battle axe in orthopedic clogs. She looked me dead in the eye and said I’d never get better. That pseudomonas would take me out faster than the CVID. Th...
Read more